“Blake,” he said deliberately avoiding his last name as it was a source of deep shame for him. He frowned when she continued looking at him expectantly.
She raised one thin eyebrow, gesturing with her hand for him to continue. “Blake. Just ‘Blake’. No last name? You go by one name, like Cher, or Prince?” She asked, clearly teasing with the sarcastic expression on her face.
His face fell in annoyance back into a scowl, irritated that she seemed to be demanding him give his full name. People in the shifter world generally knew his family name, and associated it with what happened to the rest of his family. Not many species were in the dark, when it came to a dragon losing control and killing himself, his wife, and several humans. Blake had grown wary of the look in peoples’ eyes when they made the connection that he was one of “those” Kerrigan dragons.
“I have no idea who that is,” Blake admitted, trying to reason out who the people were she mentioned, “But no, I don’t have just one name. That would be ridiculous, really. My full name is Blakemore Kerrigan, if you must know.” He muttered the words reluctantly as he met her eyes in a challenging glare. He watched her carefully, expecting to see the realization cross her face as it did with most in the shifter community. He was confused when instead she broke out in a sly grin.
“Hmm, makes you sound like a pompous asshole,” she laughed as he squirmed uncomfortably, “Or some sort of soap opera character.” She was pulling crumpled dollar bills from her pocket and tossing them down on the table.
She rose from the table before he could process her reaction. She made such odd references to him all the time. Blake felt like she was half speaking in French again.
The small Fae woman was by far the strangest creature he had ever encountered. A small part of his mind was amused that even standing she was nearly the same height as him when he was seated at the table, she came up just a few inches taller than him.
“Soap opera character?” He asked, frowning at her statement. He had never been told that his name made him sound pompous. Blake had heard of opera before, but he had no idea what a soap opera was. He wasn’t sure what influence washing could possibly have on an opera, and he certainly had no idea what that would have to do with his name. “What is a soap opera?”
A smooth, quiet laugh escaped her as she leaned on the table bringing her face closer to his. “Melodramatic human television shows that lonely human housewives watch. Just think of me as your very own Ms. Carter,” she whispered while holding his eyes with her own. She reached down, pulling his wrist up to examine his watch, her face still a hair’s breadth from his own but her eyes turned down to the watch.
Her face was so close he could feel her breath on his lips, and his body was screaming for her touch. The feeling of her hand on his skin was electric. Blake inhaled a slow, ragged breath. He was unsure what was happening, but was painfully aware he didn’t want her to stop touching him.
“Look at the time,” she sighed before straightening up, “See you around, Blakemore.” His named seemed to linger in her mouth, rolling off her tongue as if it were something secret. The woman turned and walked away from the table, making for the door of the diner quickly, without passing him another glance.
He had no idea who she was talking about with Ms. Carter, having never heard of a soap opera, much less watched one. Before Blake could untangle himself from the low table they had sat at, she was out the door. He felt strangely empty, intrigued, and vastly confused by the whole encounter.
Blake frowned. He had no way to contact her, no way of seeing her again, and didn’t even know her name. He simply could not let that stand. Before he had even made up his mind, he was rising from the table and was walking after her. She was far too interesting to just let her disappear off into the night without even knowing her actual name. For the first time, Blake found himself actively wanting to talk to someone. He made his way for the exit with a feeling of intense need surging through him to find her.
His blood was rushing with an intensity he was used to only when actively hunting, his vision blurring slightly, and the urge to shift was pulling at the edges of his consciousness. Blake suppressed the urge as he was in the middle of a very busy human street, but with a great deal of effort.
His eyes swept up and down the street as he inhaled deeply attempting to catch her scent. It was distinct and didn’t take him long at all to pick up. He pivoted and headed down the street, his arm warm where she had touched him previously. The direction she had gone was in the opposite direction from the night club. Blake was torn. One part of him desperately wanted to find the woman, the other urgently wanted to go the opposite direction.
A faint vibration from the pocket of his jeans broke his concentration as he made up his mind to go after her. He frowned, pulling the device from his pocket and flicked irately at the screen to unlock it. He had three missed calls from Riley. He hadn’t even felt the phone going off.
A frustrated sigh escaped Blake as he dialed his friend. “Where are you?” Blake snapped at his friend as soon as the he picked up the phone, “What do you mean they’re gone?” If the girl’s father didn’t beat his friend into a pulp, Blake was sorely considering it himself. He reluctantly pivoted and headed off in the direction his friend was, though he could feel the pull from the woman urging him to continue his search for her.
***END OF PREVIEW***
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Touch of Fire (Into the Darkness Book 1) Page 63